What Dudley Did Next
by bluenewman
Summary: What happened to the Dursley family when they parted ways with Harry? My first crack of the fanfic whip and my take on Dudley during DH.
1. Chapter 1

Dudley could hear the wizards saying goodbye to his cousin as his mum sobbed into his shoulder. He patted her gently before disentangling himself from her arms. He saw the wariness in Harry's eyes as he moved towards him with his hand out. Sixteen years of animosity stood like a wall between them.

'Blimey, Dudley,' said Harry, over his mum's renewed sobs. 'Did the Dementors blow a different personality into you?'

'Dunno,' muttered Dudley. 'See you, Harry.'

'Yeah, maybe' said Harry, taking Dudley's hand and shaking it. 'Take care, Big D.'

Dudley nearly smiled. He let go of Harry's hand and turned away, walking out of the house they'd shared for almost their whole lives. Throughout the weeks of plans and arguments it had never occurred to him that Harry wouldn't be coming with them and now they were leaving him alone in their empty house wearing Dudley's old jeans and a torn jumper of his father's.

He pulled the car door open and sat down next to the one in the top hat.

'Where's your mother?' his father asked, twisting round to stare at him, his eyes flicking suspiciously to the wizard who was examining the seatbelt with apparent delight.

'She's coming now,' said Dudley and he turned back round. Dudley could see the well worn vein in his forehead.

'You do it like this,' he said to the wizard and clicked his own seatbelt into place. The wizard laughed and repeated Dudley's actions.

'Marvellous. Simply marvellous. The things you Muggles come up with.'

His mum slid into the backseat and pulled the door closed behind her. She was very pale and only nodded when his dad looked back at her.

'Let's go then,' his father said and slid the car into gear. The wizard beside him gave an excited little squeak as the car slid down the driveway. Dudley could see his father grinding his teeth but he remained quiet. Dudley didn't look back at the house but watched the other houses of Privet Drive slip past. Mrs Figg was standing on the corner watching them drive away. The wizard in the back touched his fingers to his hat and she nodded back.

'Where am I driving to?' his father asked, as he turned into Wisteria Walk.

'We need somewhere quiet to disapparate from,' the witch in the front said. 'Somewhere we won't be over seen.'

'I'll need to leave the car somewhere safe,' his father said. 'I'm not having this car wrecked. It's new.'

'We can hide the car when you and your family are safe,' she said. 'We need to time your apparition with the exact moment of your nephew's departure from your house.'

His father muttered something that sounded like 'Rubbish' but he drove on. The sun was dipping down beyond the horizon and the sky around them was a wash of orange. Dudley rested his head against the cool window and closed his eyes.

The wizards in the car scared him. Their power and their strangeness was so unlike the ordered world he knew. He wanted to go back to school, get back into his boxing training. He wanted to spend hours hitting punching bags and sparing with other normal people. He wanted to eat lunch in the dining hall and laugh with his friends and forget to do his homework and walk down to the nearby town through tree lined paths with his mates, laughing and pushing each other as they went. He didn't want to be in a car with his parents and two strange wizards.

But the memory of the Dementors was always with him. And Harry had said there were more of them.

He put his hand to his chest as he remembered the heavy cold, the feeling of despair that had washed over him that night two summers before. The fear and the realisation that he was going to die, that he deserved to die. He was a bad person, a bully. There was something rotten inside him. He knew that as he felt the cold, clamminess on his face. He deserved what was happening.

Then Harry's voice had forced its way through the blackness.

'Dudley, keep your mouth closed!'

A flash of bright white light and he'd been on the floor, Harry standing over him holding his wand.

'Is anyone going to explain what this bloody apparition thing is?' his father snapped from the front.

'It's a method of travel wizards use,' the woman said. 'It allows us to disappear in one location and appear in another.'

Dudley heard his mother stifle a gasp.

'And how the ruddy hell are we supposed to do that?' The vein was really pulsing now. 'I'm not having my family disappear into thin air.'

'You will travel with us. It's perfectly safe. It really is the fastest way to move you. And the safest.'

'Stops that Lord Voldy-whatsit following us.'

She had flinched as he'd started to say the name.

'Yes, it will keep your family safe.'

'It ruddy well better do,' his father growled as he pulled the car down a rutted track between two high hedges. The car slipped on the loose gravel under a bank of heavy handing trees. 'This do?'

'This is ideal,' the wizard next to Dudley said. 'How do I get out of this thing?'

He looked expectantly at Dudley, holding out the strap of his seatbelt. Dudley popped his own and let it slide through his hand, back into place. His mother and father were standing together at the front of the car, her thin frame overshadowed by his bulk. He could hear the sound of the road behind the hedgerows.

'It's nearly time.'

Dudley turned round. He had that watch out again.

'With whom should we start, Dedalus?' the woman asked.

Dedalus, Dudley thought. He didn't want to learn their names. Didn't want to think that he was going to have to get to know them.

'Mrs Dursley?' Dedalus said. 'Shall we begin with you?'

'We can't go together?' his father asked.

'I'm afraid not. One at a time,' Dedalus said. 'Hestia will stay here and guard you before seeing to the luggage and car.'

She had her wand out. Dudley backed away from her, towards the mass that was his parents. His father had his hand on his mother's shoulder. She took Dudley's hand. She was trembling. How had it come to this, Dudley thought. How had it come to them standing under trees in the dark with two wizards, their wands out, and the promise that they were going to disappear form here and appear somewhere else? This isn't my life, he thought.

'If anyone's going first, it'll be me' his father said, stepping forward.

'Vernon..'

'No, Petunia. If we're doing this I'm not having them start with you and Dudders.'

He walked towards Dedalus.

'Let's get this over with.'

Dedalus took firm hold of his arm and twisted. There was a loud crack and suddenly they weren't there anymore. His mother screamed.

'It's quite alright,' Hestia said. 'Always a shock the first time.'

There was another pop and Dedalus was back. His hat was slightly askew as if his father had taken a swing at him.

'Goodness, your father's a fiery man,' he said to Dudley with a slight laugh as he straightened his hat. 'Mrs Dursley, if you would -'

He held his hand out to her but she cowered closer to Dudley.

'Please, Mrs Durlsey, your husband is...anxious for me to bring you.'

Dudley could imagine his father, swinging his arms and demanding his wife.

'It's okay, mum. It'll be fine.' He pushed her gently towards Dedalus' proffered arm.

She touched it lightly but Dedalus gripped her forearm hard before twisting them both. Her scream was swallowed by darkness.

Hestia was scanning the trees around them, her wand still out. He glanced round into the darkness but the woods seemed empty.

Another pop and Dedalus was back.

'Young master Dursley,' he said, arm out.

'Dudley. It's Dudley.'

Dedalus smiled broadly.

'Very well then, Dudley. Shall we?'

Dudley gripped his arm and Dedalus nodded.

'I'll see you at the house, Hestia,' he said and Hestia nodded. 'Good luck.'

Dudley looked at his father's company car, reassuring in its normality, and then Dedalus twisted and he was suffocating in darkness. There was a band across his chest, restricting his movement, and he tightened his grip on Dedalus' arm. He would surely die. He closed his eyes tightly.

And then just as suddenly as it started it stopped and he was breathing sweet, cool air. The sound of the cars was gone. He could hear a stream in the distance.

'So, you're the muggle boy.'

He opened his eyes. He was in a lane surrounded by fields. There was a house in the distance, lights shining in the windows. A girl was sitting on a fence grinning it at him. She swung her legs and landed neatly on the path, kicking up a cloud of dust.

'This is going to be fun.'


	2. Chapter 2

'Dudders!' He father had him by the shoulders, turning him away from the girl and looking him over critically. 'You're okay?'

His mother was crying, clutching her handbag, and staring around her as if she could wish herself back into their spotless kitchen. He could feel her need to clean something.

'I'm fine,' he said, allowing his father to grip his shoulders for a moment longer before shrugging them off. 'I'm fine, dad. Where are we?'

Dedalus was tucking his watch back into his top pocket.

'Wales,' he said and Dudley heard his mother turn a gasp into a sob. 'We've given the place every protection we're capable of. We'll be able to keep you quite safe here provided you stay within the confines of the grounds. Shall we?'

He walked along the fence towards a kissing gate and nimbly hopped over it. The girl followed him, glancing back to watch them hesitating in the lane.

'Quickly now,' Dedalus said and Dudley pulled himself over the gate. His father helped his mother over and Dudley took her arm on the other side to guide her to the ground.

'Anywhere within this fence is protected. If you stay within the limits you-know-who and the Death Eaters won't be able to touch you,' Dedalus was saying, tripping across the field. Dudley noticed that the girl had a wand tucked into her hair. He held his mother's arm tighter and followed them towards the house.

It was old, built of a red brick that was almost entirely obscured by thick ivy. The ground floor windows glowed with warm orange light. The girl pushed open the heavy wooden front door and Dudley led his mother over a tiled entrance, under a stone archway that seemed to be held together by the twisting ivy, and into a large entrance hall. Old fashioned gas lamps were burning and Dudley took in the twisting wooden staircase, the high stained glass window and the stuffed deer head before the door slammed closed behind them with a bang. His mother leapt and dug her nails into his arm.

'Welcome,' Dedalus said, bustling across the entrance hall, and pushing open another door to their left. The three of the huddled together on the doormat. The girl was now sitting on the stairs watching them with open curiosity.

'Come, come,' he gestured them towards them. They shuffle forwards as a pack. The house smelt like wood and warm baking bread. His mother's heels made a tripping noise on the tiled floor. The girl stayed on the stairs as Dedalus beckoned them through the open door into a long kitchen that seemed to stretched from the front of the house right to the back. A woman was standing in front of the oven, wand in hand. She turned as they entered and smiled.

She's an elf, thought Dudley and then tried to unthink it. No such thing as elves.

She was tiny and her face was taken up almost entirely by eyes that were too big and a nose, snubbed, that was too small.

'Welcome,' she said, setting her wand down and opening her arms in a wide gesture that took in the three of them and the kitchen.

'My sister, Demelza,' Dedalus said, dropping down into one of the wooden chairs at the long wooden table. 'She has agreed to join our little party, which is lucky for us because you won't have tasted cooking like Melza's.'

She turned back to the stove and picked up her wand.

'Flattery will not get you dinner any faster,' she said. 'And I can't take all the credit, as well you know.'

A tray bobbed across the kitchen loaded with knives and forks. His mother screamed and his father leapt back into the door pushing it open.

'What the ruddy hell is that?' he bellowed as the door sprang closed, hitting him in the back.

Dedalus had sprung to his feet at the scream, wand out, and a door at the far end of the kitchen flew open. The girl was there, wand in her hand. The tray came to rest on the table and Dudley saw what had been holding it up. He took two steps back and bumped into the wall.

Dedalus recovered first.

'This,' he said, 'is Gaan, our house elf.'

Elf, thought Dudley. There are such things as elves. His legs felt weak under him. He wanted to sit down. His mother groaned.

'He's quite safe,' Dedalus was saying. 'Bit of shock I imagine. Don't suppose you're used to elves. Didn't even think.'

The elf was staring at each of them in turn, its big orb like eyes taking in the tear streaked face of his mother and the red of his father, who was puffing himself up. He met Dudley's gaze and Dudley felt like the world had taken a sidestep away from him.

'Apologies for the shock, sirs and madam,' the house elf said, bowing low. It had a tea towel wrapped around its waist.

'It talks,' Uncle Vernon spluttered.

'Harry had one,' Dudley said and his parents both turned to him. 'It was in the living room.'

His mother shuddered and Dudley knew she was remembering the filth.

'Yes, yes,' said Dedalus, retaking his seat. The girl had dropped into a chair at the end of the table. She was watching them with amusement. 'That will have been Kreacher. He works in the kitchens at Hogwarts, now. Harry inherited him. Please, sit down.'

The house elf was busily laying knives and forks out along the table. His mother was watching with a look of disgust.

'Dedalus?' The front door banged and Hestia pulled open the door behind his father. Her ruddy face was flushed with colour. Dedalus leapt to his feet again.

'Everything alright?'

'Fine, fine. Not a problem. Everything alright, here?' She brushed past his father who jumped as if she'd given him an electric shock and into the kitchen, eyeing the three of them in the doorway.

'All fine,' said Dedalus. 'Gaan gave them a bit of a shock. My fault, I didn't think.'

She nodded and sat opposite Dedalus.

'Something smells good, Melza,' she said, resting her arm on the back of the chair next to her. 'All quiet, Betty?'

Dudley realised she was talking to the girl who was now tearing chunks of bread off a loaf the house elf had placed on the table. She nodded as she spread butter generously.

'Not a peep. The quietest Welsh hillside you could hope for.'

'Good, good,' Hestia said, reaching for the bread herself.

'We'd like to go to bed,' his father said, loudly.

They all turned to stare at him. Even the elf was watching him from near the sink.

'Without dinner?' Dedalus said, incredulous.

'We're not hungry.'

Dudley wanted to disagree, his stomach was clenched with hunger, but his mother was gripping onto his arm and he didn't want to stay down in the kitchen without them.

'Of course,' said Demelza, briskly wiping her hands on her apron. 'You must be exhausted. It's a lot to take in. I'll take you up.'

'I'll do it,' said the girl, making to stand.

'Sit, Betty,' Hestia said. 'Your luggage is up there already. We've put you in the east wing. If you need anything don't hesitate to find one of us.'

'We want you to treat this place as if it were your home,' Dedalus said.

Dudley watched the house elf spoon stew in roughly thrown bowls and then release the pot, which stayed in midair before floating back to the oven.

Fat chance of that, he thought as he followed his parents back into the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

'Your rooms are next to each other, so you won't be too far way. This is you room, Mr and Mrs Dursley.' She pushed open a door to a large wood panelled room. A four poster bed made of a dark wood dominated the space. His parent's suitcases were waiting at the foot of it.

'There's a bathroom down the hall and a sink in the corner. There's a fine view across the mountains and I've cast a warming charm so hopefully you won't be bothered by drafts.'

His father made a non committal noise and stalked into the room. His mother made to follow him but Demelza rested her hand on her arm. She barely reached her shoulder.

'I know it'll be hard at first, a difficult transition, but we hope you'll be comfortable here.' His mother gave a curt nod and tried to move away but he saw Demelza increase the pressure slightly.

'I knew your sister. I was very fond of her.'

His mother's already closed expression clouded over completely and she shook off Demelza's arm roughly and walked into the bedroom.

Demleza sighed.

'Your bedroom is along the hall,' she said to Dudley and lead the way down the hallway. The carpet was thick and they made no noise. He _could_ hear his father beginning to build up to a rant in the room behind them.

'I said the wrong thing, didn't I?' Demelza said. 'About your aunt.'

Dudley shrugged.

'We don't talk about her,' he said but he knew that didn't even begin to cover it. They didn't just not talk about her, she didn't exist. For years he thought Harry had simply materialised from nowhere, no parents, no past, no answers to questions.

'Painful topic,' Demelza said, misunderstanding him. She pushed open another door. 'This is you.'

The first thing he noticed were the double doors. He could see a balcony beyond them. A wrought iron bed was pushed against the far wall draped with what looked like a hand knitted blanket. His suitcase and rucksack were stacked on a wooden chest at the end of the bed.

'Thanks,' he said and he could hear the gruffness in his voice but she nodded and touched his arm gently.

'Come down if you get hungry,' she said and then she vanished down the corridor in the opposite direction to which they'd come. He couldn't help but think she didn't want to pass the door where his father's angry voice was carrying into the hall.

He pushed the door closed and turned to look at the room. It looked normal. There was a wardrobe with a wonky door that his mother wouldn't have given house room to and a thick legged table with an empty bowl on top. Someone had put a vase of yellow flowers on the windowsill. He unzipped his suitcase and opened the drawers.

He was stacking his dumbbells in a corner of the room when there was a small tap on his door. His mum slipped in, already wrapped in her dressing gown. She looked exhausted.

'You okay, Dudders?' she said and he nodded. She sat down on the edge of his bed and toyed with the edge of the knitted blanket.

'Dad's asleep.'

He nodded again and balanced the last dumbbell in its stand.

'I'm sorry about all this,' she said and he looked up at her. She wasn't crying. She sounded tired and lost.

'It's not your fault,' he said, crossing to the bed and hovering awkwardly before sitting down next to her. He thought about putting his hand on her shoulder.

'Your school,' she said. 'Your training.'

He felt the loss of it somewhere in his stomach but he shook his head.

'Not much use if we'd ended up dead,' he said and she flinched. 'It's okay, mum. This is where we need to be.'

She reached over and patted his hand.

'You're such a good boy, Dudley. Always have been.'

No I haven't, he thought but he let her pat his hand while she got back some of the steel in her spine.

'Maybe you can train with dad?'

'Yeah, maybe,' he said.

'Do you think you can sleep in here?' She looked round and he saw her take in the wardrobe with the incorrectly hung door. Her eyes narrowed.

He laughed and tried to imagine what she thought the alternative was. He was seventeen, far too old to be crawling into bed with his parents because he was afraid of the dark.

'I'll be fine, mum. It's just a room.'

She patted his hand again and stood, pulling the belt of her dressing gown tight around her.

'I've never liked old houses,' she said, glancing round at the dark corners the orange gas light didn't reach.

He listened to her door close down the hall and then, grabbing a pair of cotton tracksuit bottoms, went in search of the bathroom.

He woke when it was still dark. His stomach contracted with hunger. The house was silent and the floorboards creaking under his bare feet were loud in the quiet. He paused, listening, but all he could hear was the distant rumble of his father's snoring.

There was a narrow, dark staircase at the end of the hallway. He'd found it when he was looking for the bathroom. The wooden steps bowed in the middle, worn smooth with use. They wound down, twisting out of sight of the light from his torch.

'Bloody brilliant,' he muttered, craning round to see where the steps lead. The hunger that had compelled him from his bed gave another twist in his guts and he started down the stairs knowing that creeping through a dark house filled with wizards was probably not a good idea. The stairs groaned under his weight and he winced. They were narrow and the walls crowded in on him, leading him down to a scrubbed wooden door. It was closed. He listened, trying to hear any noise beyond but there was only the sound of his quick breathing in the cramped space.

Carefully, quietly, he twisted the brass handle and pushed the door open.

He was in the kitchen. It was the door the girl had burst through when his mum had screamed earlier. A gas light was burning low in the middle of the table. He shuffled forward, sweeping his torch beam over the worktops and tables. If he could find something to eat he could retreat back upstairs to the relative safety of his room.

'Are you okay, sir?'

He almost dropped his torch. He spun to face the voice and lit up the small elf who was watching him impassively, his huge eyes reflecting the torch light.

'I...I...' Dudley stammered. His heart was heavy against his chest and he could feel the prickle of sweat on the back of his neck. He took a steading breath. 'I was looking for something to eat.'

The elf beamed at him.

'Sir if hungry? Well, sir missed dinner. Gaan will get you something. If sir sits at the table.' He gestured to the long table and swept away down the kitchen, ignoring Dudley's shake of his head.

'Honestly, I can eat upstairs,' he said but the elf ignored him as it busied itself collecting a plate and bowl and spoon.

'Would sir like stew?' He was lifting the lid from a large cast iron pot and gazing inside. 'With some bread?'

Dudley watched as he touched the side of the pot and thick tendrils of steam rose from it. The savoury smell of slow cooked meat reached him across the kitchen and before he could change his mind he dropped into the nearest chair. Gaan hurried over with a bowl, gesturing behind him to the remains of a crusted loaf that floated to Dudley's side plate.

'Thanks,' said Dudley awkwardly as the elf put the bowl in front of him.

'You're welcome, sir.'

The big eyes watched him as he picked up his spoon. The stew was thick, full of chunks of meat and vegetables in a rich brown gravy. He tried the smallest amount. It was good. He began to attack the bowl with relish, breaking off chunks of the bread to dip in the meaty sauce.

'Sir likes it?' the elf asked and Dudley nodded. The elf beamed. 'Gaan will remember. Would sir like more?'

Dudley had scooped the last mouthful up with the heel of the bread. He shook his head. Without training regularly he would have to be conscious of how much he ate, especially if all the food was going to be as rich as this.

'No. I'm good,' he said, stacking his bowl and plate. 'Erm, thanks.'

The elf nodded and swept the dishes into his arms.

'Sir is welcome.'

'Erm,' Dudley said and the elf turned to look at him. 'You don't have to call me sir. It's...well, Dudley's fine.'

The elf placed the dishes in the sink. It seemed to be thinking.

'Sir has not met many house elves?'

Dudley shook his head.

'None, really. I mean, up until today I didn't even know you were a thing. We don't...we don't have you in my...world.'

The elf nodded and seemed to be weighing its words carefully.

'House elves live to serve wizards, sir. It is our life work.'

'Like servants?' Dudley asked. He had a sudden flash of a very different Upstairs Downstairs.

'Yes, sir. We serve. We is not...equal to wizards.'

'I'm not a wizard,' said Dudley.

'No sir,' said the elf and he smiled sadly. 'You is a muggle. It's a dangerous time for muggles. And for elves.'

Dudley didn't understand this. But then he was having a hard enough time understanding that he was talking to a living, breathing, thinking elf. He shook his head.

'So, you have to call me sir?' he said eventually.

'Sir would prefer it if I called him by his name?' the elf asked.

Dudley looked at him, at his alien face and his giant ears and his wide, curious eyes. He could feel the stew and the warmth of the kitchen dulling his senses, feeling the tiredness creeping along his limbs. He nodded his head and yawned.

'I really would,' he said and the elf gave a slow nod.

'Then it shall be so.'

Dudley raised his suddenly exhausted body from the chair.

'Thanks for the food. Goodnight.'

He pulled the door opened and had his foot on the first step when the light on the table was blown out and the elf spoke softly in the darkness.

'Goodnight, Dudley.'

Edit - slight change to account for time period as I'd forgotten it was happening in the 90s. Removed talk of phones and Downton Abbey.


End file.
